I recently attended a concert with some friends up at Red Rocks. The performer, who sings some fairly aggressive and angry songs, spoke out towards the end of his performance. “We live in interesting and difficult times,” he declared. “And I don’t know that I have the answers. I’m a romantic. And I think we need to listen to each other.” It was a somewhat surprising and appreciated sentiment to hear from the stage.

Riding home, I found myself reflecting on the belief that things in America are really extra super bad these days. The twists and turns of the car on the mountain road provided a comforting and peaceful environment to consider this viewpoint. I remember in 2008 when the country rippled with state after state passing the Defense of Marriage Act. When I was young, I watched the LA riots over the beating of Rodney King. I’ve studied the history of AIDS and how it was first called GRID- Gay Related Immune Deficiency. How gay men who were diagnosed were abandoned by even medical professions and left to suffer and die. I watched city after city in our country issue camping bans (even Boulder, bastion of all that is liberal) to shut down the Occupy movement and inhibit our right to assembly and free speech. I’ve read first hand accounts of our wars in Vietnam and Korea. I’ve absorbed histories and stories about the creation and use of nuclear weapons. And the impact of nuclear weapons and accidents on people and environments. I lived near 3 Mile Island as young person. Difficult times and human suffering are not new to our country.

When W. was elected, there were folks in my social circle who were pleased to have something happen to address the complacency of the progressive community. I admit my own frustration at getting people to engage and participate. We had achieved just enough to feel comfortable, without having actually and genuinely made change. Similar to what happened in the Obama years. It is an unfortunate fact that many of us need to be scared or uncomfortable to get motivated. And there is a form of fatigue from doing this work, repeatedly, for years, and still feeling a sense of being where we started. The ancient story of Sisyphus, condemned to an eternity of rolling a boulder uphill then watching it roll back down again, highlights the essentially hellish nature of doing a task with no real sense of progress.

This feeling of discouragement is something I faced when I first took on the primary work of my household when my kids were young. No matter how many times I did the dishes, there were always more dishes. And as long as I thought of them as a task to complete, I found myself wrestling Sisyphian feelings of being in a hell of in-completion. After some time, it might honestly have been a few years, I had a moment of experiencing it differently. Instead of trying to complete the overall task of dishes so it could be done, perhaps I would simply do the dishes in front of me and feel a moment of satisfaction in the experience of the empty sink. And not really expect it to remain empty. It worked. Even when my well-meaning youngster dropped his cup into the pristine porcelain sink, it didn’t diminish my feeling of satisfaction. There will always be more dishes. Sometimes even the same dishes.

There will always be more injustice. Sometimes the same injustice. Vulnerable people will be targeted and hurt by the chess moves of the powerful. Policies will have intended and unintended consequences that are harmful and damaging. The poor will be left out and left behind. Those who are different will be overlooked or intentionally silenced. And those of us who are committed to justice will be tireless in our efforts to address these things. In the world. In ourselves. In our families. And some days, we will tire. And some days, we will fail. And some days, we will succeed. And every morning, we will start again. Because there is always more to clean up and the only way we can make a difference, is to keep cleaning.

Even as a young person, I was aware of the challenges of race and ethnicity, despite my suburban shelter. I was born with an insatiable curiosity as well. My curiosity led to conversations with a variety of students at different times about their experiences in our high school. I recall a conversation with a classmate who was Jewish. He shared the struggles he faced as many of our classmates would threaten him, using anti-Semitic language as part of their bullying. I believed him to be telling the truth. And I also couldn’t believe people would behave that way. It seemed like a lesson the world had paid a painful price to learn so very long ago. I recall a conversation with an African American boy in one of my classes. He played down the challenges of being in a primarily white school, far from his home. As part of a busing program, he rode over an hour each way to attend our school. I understand now there were likely things I couldn’t understand. Maybe he was trying to express them. Maybe by then he was tired of trying to communicate his experience. Perhaps my well meaning curiosity was a painful experience for him. I just remember trying to understand if it was lonely or hard to be in our school- so white. So suburban. So far from his home. The conversation was brief and returned to complaints about the lunch menu after a short silence. And I really never stopped wondering what his experience was like.

The recent rise in awareness of white privilege and institutional racism has recalled for me these and other conversations. I feel a heightened awareness of my whiteness. White skin. White privilege. White suburban history. Whiteness. And a new social awareness of the challenges we face if we truly want to express our American ideals and values. If we want to live up to our own standards, we have to acknowledge where we are falling short on doing so. Acknowledging what has happened and how we have been complicit is an important part of moving forward. And yet it is often diminished to guilt, rather than accountability.

White guilt. Like any other useless experience, it has a seductive lilt to its presentation. It feels like accountability and it acts like seeking reassurance. It acts like avoiding conflict. It acts like not participating. White guilt is a distraction, at least for me, from taking the risk to be vulnerable enough to be responsible or to be wrong. And in being wrong, learn something and be part of the changes to which I am committed.

I have come to accept I will be uncomfortable, often, as I seek to be part of building a world I actually want to live in. And I will have to learn how to accept my guilt as part of me. I am grateful for the teachers in my life who have helped me to see there is more than my experience. More to the world than my view of what is. More to this moment than my discomfort. I hope I can use those lessons effectively to keep us moving towards a world that embraces all our voices.

We talked with gubernatorial candidate Jared Schutz Polis about the challenges and opportunities of serving in public office.

Summary

How does one balance ones ideals against the need to move forward towards a better future? Politicians are people doing a job and yet the modern approach to politics creates 2 dimensional versions of these people.

I wrote a short Facebook post last week about being horrified at where we are and how we got here as a country. My partner told me I was a fool for posting anything vulnerable on Facebook. Given the result, I can’t say he is incorrect in his assertion. It won’t stop me from trying again, though. In that post, I referenced my father, someone with whom I am politically not in sync and also someone whom I love and respect. It resulted in a family member of mine (not my father) acting out in unexpected anger.

I have been reflecting on the post and the result for the past 48 hours. For me, the BiCurean approach is curiosity, compassion, and grace. Can I stand in the face of my own flaws and not blame others for my fears and insecurities? Can I acknowledge where I am ignorant? blaming? unkind? Will I take responsibility for my actions and words? Can I bear the pain of losing face to stand for the world I want to live in? Some days, yes. Other days, no. When I am in a “not there” day, will I acknowledge I am not living up to my own standards and recommit myself? Yes.

I truly am horrified by the polarization and division in our country. It is astonishing to me that a poorly worded statement on a social media platform could prompt a person I love and care for, a person that I know loves and cares for me, to be so inflamed and angry. It highlights for me how deeply into this story of us versus them we have allowed ourselves to sink.

The same day that my family member (not my father, someone else) was messaging me with anger, a friend of mine from college was reaching out. As a young, faithful Mormon I went to Brigham Young University. This friend is still very committed to the Mormon faith and also committed to our friendship. He and I were talking about how much we appreciate one another. We both believe we can work together, despite this current morass and our different views, to create communities in which we all would feel welcome. More than that even, we both believe it is the better path.

And so I am also emboldened to have hope. I am committed to a world in which our relationships can survive misunderstandings as well as real differences. I am committed to a world in which accountability for our actions and our harm to others is part of how we orient ourselves to where we want to go. I am committed to being the change I want to see in the world, even when I fall short.

Indigenous people seek acknowledgement for the impact of imperialism in a world where immigrants often don't know their own history.

Summary

Remembering our history gives us insight and empathy. What inspired Columbus Day as a holiday? And why do Indigenous People challenge the celebration of it? It is interesting and revealing to look into.

Our conversation with Dr. Mosby-Tyler ranged from 80s diversity training to the cultural significance of salad in our dinner choices. We were delighted to have her on the show and hope you enjoy this episode as much as we enjoyed making it!

About Dr. Nita Mosby-Tyler

Mosby-Tyler is the Chief Catalyst and Founder of The Equity Project, LLC – an organization designed to support organizations and communities in building diversity, equity and inclusion strategies. In her work, Dr. Mosby-Tyler specializes in the development and delivery of leadership, equity, diversity, cultural responsiveness and inclusiveness training programs and strategies.

There have been a few high profile suicides in 2018 as well as a CDC report released showing that suicide is up 30% in America. What is happening? We looked into the numbers and while we don't have answers, there are some interesting things happening.

I've been reading Amanda Lovelace and Ky Robinson in a slightly obsessive way this week. Even more oddly, I found the books at Costco. Wandering by the clothes and snacks, I got pulled in. The blank and empty covers intrigued me amidst the cacophony of politics and mystery novels. Poetry that is almost prose, the words leave enough out to inspire me. Sometimes it is in the negative space I find the most powerful inspiration.

I'm prepping a reading for an upcoming open mic performance. Some new pieces and some older ones, mixed together. I love to share my writing in written form. It feels safer than reading it, out loud with my actual voice, in front of people. I want to touch someone, even just one someone, to connect across the loneliness and confusion that is life. Reading it in front of people feels like jumping into a pool without being sure I remember how to swim.

I've heard the magic happens outside of our comfort zone. So, hopefully there will be magic. And I will remember how to swim.

My grandmother used to say getting older beats the alternative. She lived to be 87. She was independent and vibrant, mentally and physically, until the very end of her life. And yet culturally we have so many ideas about aging that make my grandmother's story seem anomalous. Is it?